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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24876130">Five Questions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b'>bigblueboxat221b</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Asexual Mycroft Holmes, Asexuality, Drinking &amp; Talking, M/M, Pre-Slash</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:27:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,409</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24876130</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They’d danced this dance a number of times lately, Greg making an offer to send their conversation into something deeper, Mycroft gently refusing. Each time he thought longer and longer - and tonight felt different. They were more relaxed, their glasses filled and now almost empty for the second time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>227</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Five Questions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReynardinePotter/gifts">ReynardinePotter</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A perfectly formed scene that dropped into my head but did not fit into my current WIP, and a beautifully supportive reader. Hence, a gift. &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="MsoNormal">The alcohol slid through Greg’s veins, silky and smooth as always. He was familiar enough with Mycroft’s place not to be openly staring, but every now and then his brain would remind him that holy shit, he was <em>here</em>, in Mycroft’s flat.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“So, how much of what Sherlock says about you is true?” Greg asked. They’d been talking about other things, but Greg’s words echoed an early conversation about the detective’s acid tongue.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I don’t know precisely what my brother says,” Mycroft replied smoothly. “So I can hardly be asked to make an accurate assessment of his statements.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Greg inclined his head in agreement, amusement threading with the alcohol. Sitting here with Mycroft was the best part of his week, when it happened. He pushed away the comparisons with his day-to-day, shoving at the whisper of <em>maybe this could be the day-to-day…</em></p><p class="MsoNormal">“He doesn’t say a lot,” Greg said, “but in my experience, he rarely lies.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Mycroft mimicked the head tilt. “True,” he allowed. “Though if what he believes is not true…” he let the words sit for a moment.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Greg grinned at him. “I guess that puts us in a difficult position,” he replied lightly.</p><p class="MsoNormal">The challenge lay between them, a gauntlet less thrown than carefully placed. Greg hoped Mycroft understood he could step around it without penalty. They’d danced this dance a number of times lately, Greg making an offer to send their conversation into something deeper, Mycroft gently refusing. Each time he thought longer and longer - and tonight felt different. They were more relaxed, their glasses filled and now almost empty for the second time.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Greg kept his fingers loose, willing his body language to read <em>nonchalant</em>.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Mycroft was silent for a while. “Perhaps,” he said slowly. His eyes were assessing, flashing in the firelight. He seemed to come to some kind of decision. “Five questions,” he said. “Ask me five questions.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">A fizzle of something shot down Greg’s spine. <em>Tonight.</em> “And you’ll answer honestly,” he said, keeping his voice neutral even as his heart sped up.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Any answers I give will be honest,” Mycroft replied.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Their shared smile confirmed the nuance was understood. <em>Assuming I chose to answer at all.</em></p><p class="MsoNormal">Greg swirled his glass, considering what to ask first. He wondered what Mycroft thought he might ask. It was almost like preparing for an interview at work. Sympathetic or hard-line? Ease into it or knock him off balance? There might not be another opportunity, so he decided to combine the two.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> Ask a big question, but do it carefully. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Hypothetically,” he began, hoping the qualifier might encourage Mycroft to answer more fully, “if I was to ask you on a date, what would you say?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Whatever Mycroft had been expecting, it was not this. His reaction was minimal, but Greg was looking for it. A slight hitch in the smooth movement of his arm, eyes flicking to Greg’s, the expression careful in its neutrality.<em> Surprised.</em></p><p class="MsoNormal">“Hypothetically,” he said finally, “I would have questions of my own.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Greg nodded, placing his glass on the side table and meeting Mycroft’s gaze. He opened his hands in an, ‘okay, then,’ gesture and waited.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“What would be the purpose of such a meeting?” Mycroft asked.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“To get to know each other,” Greg said. “Without the…walls.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Mycroft nodded. Greg waited.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“And you would have expectations,” Mycroft said, his eyes probing.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> He’s expecting something. Expecting me to say something. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I don’t think so,” Greg replied carefully. “Though that’s a pretty vague statement.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Of a physical nature,” Mycroft elaborated, the pink spots on his cheeks highlighting his discomfort.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Greg considered that. “I don’t think so,” he repeated. He shrugged. “It’s just one date.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“And after that one date,” Mycroft replied, “there would be another.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> Where is he going with this? </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Depends on how the first one goes,” Greg replied with a smile. “We’d have to see how we felt about it.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">He could see Mycroft wrestling with something, and concentrated on encouraging thoughts.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> Come on, sweetheart. Find the right words. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">Mycroft frowned. “Surely a second date generally follows the first?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Not always,” Greg said lightly. “If you don’t click, you don’t click.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Mycroft nodded, the line between his eyebrows marking his concentration. “But eventually,” he said tentatively, “the usual progression involves intimacies of a physical nature.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Greg tilted his head. He needed to find the right words. Mycroft was fishing, and Greg had no idea what he wanted to hear – or what he expected to hear – but his best bet was to remain truthful but noncommittal. Hopefully Mycroft would eventually come out and ask whatever it was he was skirting around.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> This might be our only chance at this conversation. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I can’t say I’m an expert on relationships,” Greg said finally. “And the older I get, the more I realise what I want now isn’t what I would have said twenty years ago.” He looked at Mycroft, knowing how carefully his words were being taken in. “What I can say is in my experience, every relationship is different. It’s a combination of people. So it’s not always the same.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“But there are expectations,” Mycroft tried.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> You won’t lock me into a generalisation like that so easily. But I’ll try and ease your worries. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">“One thing I’ve learned in relationships, if you go in with expectations, you’ll be disappointed,” Greg replied. “Because whatever you’re expecting, you can bet your pension the other person is expecting something different. So even if you end up with something good, it’s not what either of you expected.” He looked at Mycroft. “Does that make sense?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Mycroft did not answer, but as he raised his glass to his lips, Greg had the distinct impression he was re-evaluating his plan. <em>It must be important if he’s taking so much care.</em></p><p class="MsoNormal">“And right now,” Mycroft asked, “what would you say are important features in a relationship?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Right now?” Greg repeated. “It’s vague. More about how something feels than specifics.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Even so,” Mycroft replied, inviting him to answer further.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> What’s the most important thing? What do I miss? What do I want to feel again? </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Comfort,” Greg said finally. “Warmth. Not just physically, but emotionally. Safety. Sharing with someone that shares with you. Knowing I can offer someone the same things I’m looking for.” He swallowed. “Feeling important.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“And that would generally include…sex,” Mycroft said, colouring more forcefully now he’d finally said it.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Greg didn’t answer right away. The answer was complicated, but at last he had a glimmer of an idea where Mycroft was going with this. He could see part of what Mycroft wanted to talk about, but his motivation was still clouded, so he’d have to step carefully.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“It’s complicated,” he said. “Sex…can be part of it. It can be comforting and safe.” He shrugged. “But it’s like the rest of a relationship. A lot of it is compromise. And it’s not enjoyable if you’re not both into it. There are a lot of different kinds of relationship out there.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Mycroft nodded. “And that’s…common?” he asked. Greg knew he looked confused, because Mycroft continued, “A relationship without sex.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Greg felt his eyebrow lift as something slotted into place in his mind.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><em> Okay. I might see where this is coming from. </em>A suspicion bloomed, something to explain some of Mycroft’s questions and reactions. It was a risk, but a calculated one as Greg opened his mouth to ask another question.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Hypothetically,” Greg asked, his heart thudding hard against his chest, “would you say you’ve been attracted to many people?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">The question was enough to make Mycroft pause, his whole body stilling for a second as panic flashed in his eyes. Greg held his gaze, concentrating on remaining calm and open. He knew he’d tipped his hand, that Mycroft knew Greg knew where he was going with this line of questions, and he wanted to make sure Mycroft didn’t shut everything down.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> You’re safe with me. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> This conversation is safe with me. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Drawn to them,” Mycroft replied carefully, his final word a whisper “no.” He pulled in a deep breath and blurted, “Attracted in a sexual manner, no.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Greg nodded, waiting, but Mycroft did not continue. “If you wanted to expand on that, I’m listening,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. Inviting Mycroft to remain in control of things, now they were speaking more plainly.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“That would be six questions,” Mycroft murmured.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I don’t think so,” Greg replied calmly. “I didn’t ask you a question, I just encouraged you to keep talking.” He watched as Mycroft frowned, clearly reviewing their conversation.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> Four. I’ve asked four questions, if he includes the bit where I repeated his words. Which I think he will. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Very clever,” he said finally, looking at Greg.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Thank you,” Greg replied evenly.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Hypothetically,” Mycroft said, holding Greg’s gaze, “I might say there have been several people with whom I would have liked to pursue a…closer acquaintance.” Greg nodded. “Only one of those had I begun to consider physical intimacy would be desirable.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Another nod, and from Mycroft’s pressed lips Greg could see he was finished for the moment.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> After all this, he might answer differently now. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">“So to bring us back to the original question,” Greg said, “what would you say if I was to ask you on a date?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Mycroft considered that. “I believe I would accept,” he replied. “Might I ask a question?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Of course,” Greg said.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“When you envisage comfort, warmth and security, how does that look?” Mycroft swallowed. “In a non-sexual sense.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Greg nodded, taking a deep breath. “It’s…someone to share a meal,” he said. “And talk about my day. Really talk, you know? Someone that listens, and remembers, and cares about the little things. Someone that lets me know when they’ll be late so I can stay up to see them. I can trust them with myself, you know?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">He looked down. Mycroft may or may not be talking about him when he mentioned being drawn to people; Greg couldn’t tell and he didn’t want to upset the delicate balance of this already astounding conversation. Whatever happened, he had to be honest. And if it meant it wasn’t going to work with Mycroft, well, he’d rather they figured it out now.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> Cards on the table. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I’m a pretty tactile person. I think that’s what I miss the most. The little touches that remind me someone wants me around. And a good hug. Sitting on the sofa watching something together, right next to each other.” Greg stopped, biting his lip. The silence sat around him for half a dozen breaths, comfortingly heavy until he looked up to meet Mycroft’s eyes. He could see the question half-formed already.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> You didn’t mention sex. Why not? </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Do you know what’s more important than sex?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Mycroft shook his head, a little startled he’d been anticipated.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Trust,” Greg said. “The compromise I was talking about, it happens with sex too. With what you want to do, exactly, and how often, and where. If you can figure out something that works for you both, great. And sometimes you can’t, so the relationship ends.” He tried for a joking grin, feeling it fall flat. “But you don’t know until you start talking about it. And it can surprise you. Sometimes in a negotiation the things you think are more important to someone actually aren’t.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Mycroft nodded, his eyes probing Greg’s for a long while.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“To be clear,” Mycroft said, “and my apologies if this is a vulgar assessment, are you saying that sex is not as important to a relationship as might be represented?”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I know I keep giving you vague answers,” Greg said. “But it depends. Some people, it’s very important. Some relationships, it’s all there is, really.” He drew a deep breath. “But I get the impression you’re asking about me personally.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">Mycroft swallowed and nodded, a barely perceptible dip of his head.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Twenty years ago I would have told you there’s nothing more important than sex,” Greg said. “A deep connection kind of guy, that was me.” His smile faded. “I want someone to share my life,” he said. “If there’s sex, that’s good. Great, if it’s what we both want. But I’ve been in terrible relationships with a heap of sex, and the terrible always overshadows the sex.” He felt himself colour as he admitted, “I’m not saying I won’t ever want to, er, take a long shower on my own,” he said, and Mycroft’s uncomfortable squirm at the clumsy euphemism actually made him feel better. “But big picture, sex isn’t up there on the list.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">He took a deep, shaky breath. Christ, he’d never put it out there like that before. Never tried to explain what he wanted in quite such explicit terms – and never been so honest about how much more he’d rather a good cuddle than a leg over.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
  <em> Orgasms can be a one-person job. Cuddles, not so much. </em>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">With bated breath he waited for Mycroft to speak, coaching himself internally as the seconds ticked past. He told himself it didn’t matter what Mycroft said. That he’d been honest, so whatever happened he couldn’t have any regrets. Jesus, he’d had an honest conversation with Mycroft about relationships and sex. That was more than with some of his best mates, not that he really had many of those anymore. From what he could see, Mycroft was still analysing his words, or whatever he called it. His brain was ticking over, that much was clear, and when he stood, lifting his empty glass and eyebrows in a two-pronged question, Greg downed the last of his whiskey and raised his glass for a refill. It wasn’t until Mycroft was sitting again that he spoke.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“That was six questions,” he said, a slight smile tugging at his mouth.</p><p class="MsoNormal">“Yeah,” Greg replied, his anxiety easing. “I was wondering if you’d notice.” Mycroft affected an offended air at this slight on his observational skills and Greg grinned, relaxing again. “I’d ask where we’re going on this date,” he said, “but I wouldn’t want to overstep the mark on questions.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">“I’m sure I can think of somewhere,” Mycroft replied. “And I believe you may ask as many questions as you please.”</p><p class="MsoNormal">The silence settled over them again, and Greg sipped at his whiskey, deeply content. Exploring this with Mycroft would be interesting. He could feel possibilities threading around them and wondered where they would lead. Wherever it was, he was intrigued to see.</p>
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